


Love Letter to Myself

by ThirteenSocks



Series: Let the World Fade Away [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, love making, sex as an act of love, this is pure sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 20:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirteenSocks/pseuds/ThirteenSocks
Summary: Keith,I wrote these things to you because I wanted to capture that moment in time.It’s happened so many times before, in different forms, and will continue to happen again and again.The rings on our fingers, and the name I gifted you, are but placeholders for the promise of my devotion. My love will not, and can never, run out for you. You’re a star that burns hot and bright and I can merely orbit around you, try to soak in all that you have to give. Time and seasons, day and night, they are defined by you. You are my guiding light.





	Love Letter to Myself

It was a Sunday morning in winter. 

From our window, I saw tufts of white resting on the branches of your favorite apple tree. The sun was barely rising, though the clouds obscured it anyways. Instead of yellow fire warming the sky, it glowed a hazy gray. Birds were quiet, not many had stayed behind when the weather turned. 

You shifted in your sleep and I heard the whispering of sheets, as you drew the blanket around you. I took a deep breath, not quite willing to look over just yet. I knew when my gaze fell on you, I wouldn’t be able to look away. In my breathing I caught notice of your scent. It’s impossible to describe what people smell like, but the best I have for you is the feelings it gives me. It reminds me of days like that, of cold air and cuddles under covers. It’s like the cup of hot cocoa you make after playing outside in the snow; its warm and its comforting. It’s the peace of watching snowflakes drifting, embracing others, until they’re one solid blanket that rests above the ground. 

Would you laugh if I said it’s like home? 

Not a house, not the physical structure of bricks and cement and carpet, but home like the place of escape when the world is chasing you. It’s home like believing in God because there’s one piece of Heaven on Earth, and you’ve found it and made your bed inside it. It’s home like how my body feels when I’m inside you, connected to you, moving in you. 

I have to squeeze my eyes tight. 

The wind rustles through branches outside. 

”Shiro?” I opened my eyes to see you watching me. You were on your side, cheek smashed into the pillow, and your blinks came slow and lazy. Your gaze was slightly unfocused; you looked just as blissed out as you did the night before. My heart had begun to hammer in my chest. Need sparked and nipped at my veins. Inside, it said, I need to be to join my body to yours. 

”Keith,” I finally found my voice, even if it were scratchy from sleep. I only wanted to fill you if you wanted me to. ”Keith, I need you. Can I?” I said your name again because if there were one thing that could ever ground me, it would be everything that came along with and existed inside that five-letter word. ’Keith’ was the closest language came to describing this Heaven on Earth.

I watched your face intently, reading you for every sentence you displayed. The same desire I felt melting my insides was visible in soft parting of your mouth and your eyes that looked up from long, black lashes. I followed the swipe of your tongue as it smoothed against your top lip. Any remaining focus in your gaze had left. 

”Shiro,” you said my name, and I hoped you felt the same solace in it as I did yours, ”Please.” Another word that grabs hold of my flesh and rips me open. I’m left naked when you say it to me. 

I grabbed hold of your hair and pushed our lips together. A small voice inside had asked me to be slow, but the desperation at seeing you, hair rumpled, strands escaping your loosened braid, and the little flash of sharp collarbones beneath the blanket, was a voice yelling far louder. 

I hoped you knew that my impatience was born of as much of the love I have when I could slowly, movement by movement, give worship to your temple. 

My lips were quick to move on to your neck; they left a trail of pecks from your cheek to the underside of your jaw. I nipped and sucked on the thrumming pulse point beneath. I heard the near-breathless groan as well as felt it vibrate through your throat. I responded with my fingers drawing feather-light touches over the swell of your nipples. At each pass you sounded like the air was punched out of you. 

I slid down the bed and let my lips take the place of my fingers. Your back arched off the bed and I watched as your bottom lip got drawn in by your teeth, only to be released more flushed and swollen. My tongue swirled and flicked your nipple. I made sure to give your other one the same treatment. I felt myself hard and heavy against my thigh. I knew I wouldn’t be able to draw this out much longer. My head swam with the thought of burying deep, as deep as I could go, into the tight heat of your hole. At that thought, I reached over and gained hold of the bottle that was out from the night before. 

”Are- are you ready?” I still asked because my body could wait if yours needed me to, if you needed me to. But, thankfully, you nearly yelled a ”yes” at me. I had to bite back a groan, your neediness only fueling me to move quickly. I rolled you so you were on your back. You grabbed hold of the backs of your knees, putting on display your spasming pucker, like an instinct.

I doused my cock in lube, grabbed your ankles, and, knowing intimately that you’d been worked open only so many hours before, pushed myself inside you. 

Your head fell back and neck stretched long. You muttered incoherent things about, or maybe to, God. And, of course, you said my name. Between your words to God, it became your prayer. 

My hips were rest flush against you. 

Any thought about anything that wasn’t the tightness fluctuating between constriction and even pressure was gone before it could reach conciousness. 

”Fuck, baby.” I couldn’t help but sob. 

I pulled out slowly, reveling in the drag, until the lip of my cockhead was squeezed by your entrance, and shot forward in a sudden snap of hips. You cried out. I repeated the motions until you begged me, with all delicate romanticism out the window, to move harder, faster, and deeper. 

The delicious sounds of working hole filled my ears and coupled with your quiet, almost-voiceless moaning. You’re a gorgeous mess. Your hair came ever looser from your braid, the rubbing of your head back and forth over your pillow causing it. Your thighs trembled and I grit my teeth to utter obscenities, because I didn’t want my noises to drown out yours. 

You were close and I could tell before your told me. Your grip on me had become tight, and the contractions closer together. 

I hammered into you. 

You came with a shocked cry and it painted your belly and chest. 

I grunted, finding the sight unbearable to witness; your chest heaved with panting, cheeks glowed with a pink flush, and your spend across your own skin. I was getting close. The ache to plant my seed inside you, the primal urge to fill you with it, was burning me alive. I snapped into you in shallow thrusts and finally the pressure that tightening was released. My cum shot hot inside you and as I rode it out, I relished in the groan and grit of your teeth. Having my spend inside you was much a necessity for you as it was for me to give it to you. 

As I cleaned you up, we fell into gentle and delightful laughter. For no reason, and for all the reasons. We expressed our joy and our disbelief, our tiredness, our humor at how funny this messy endeavour is. It had to be the most hilarious idea, the most silly-filled primal urge, for all the mirth we placed into the air. And then hot tears fell from both our eyes. Because, how beautiful and natural was our coupling? How could we bear the weight of love and desperation for one another? And then snot ran down our faces and we found laughter again. 

Keith,

I wrote these things to you because I wanted to capture that moment in time. 

It’s happened so many times before, in different forms, and will continue to happen again and again. 

The rings on our fingers, and the name I gifted you, are but placeholders for the promise of my devotion. My love will not, and can never, run out for you. You’re a star that burns hot and bright and I can merely orbit around you, try to soak in all that you have to give. Time and seasons, day and night, they are defined by you. You are my guiding light. 

I also wrote this letter, that I could read it in times of need. 

Though I’ve come so far in healing, as you know, there are times where I feel like I have to grasp for even the air I breathe. I needed to make this snapshot in time, to look back on. 

You’re my husband, my soulmate. 

I wish I had the perfect words to describe to you all that you mean to me. But words are falliable. So, I’ll show you in my kisses when we’re off to work. It’ll be in my cuddles when we sit in front of the tv. You’ll find it when I’m in you. Or when I let you inside me. So, please. Hear my words but also look for it there.

Light of my life,

I love you.

Takashi Shirogane.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> I’m still very fresh to writing, so I appreciate any and all feedback! So please comment if you can!
> 
> Socks


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